The Phoenix
by Ava Drake
Summary: Sherlock and John have established a working household. But what happens when one young unruly woman gets thrown into the mix?
1. Chapter 1

"I'm not staying here." She glared.

"Yes you are." Mycroft corrected.

"No she's not." Sherlock interjected.

"Quiet, this is none of your business."

"Actually, it's their apartment. They have the authority. Ahh, well. Guess I'll have to go home." The woman said.

"Okay." John said. "What's going on?"

Mycroft looked at him. "This is Phoenix. She works for me."

She scoffed. "I don't work for you. I helped you a few times. And that was only because I was bored."

"Yes, yes," Mycroft said impatiently. He looked at Sherlock. "She has this habit of disappearing whenever I need her help."

"Not my fault you don't know where to look." Phoenix cut in.

Mycroft paused, annoyed. "Anything else?"

"Not yet. Give me a sec."

"Anyhow she disappears for days and now it's a bit busy so I can't risk her running. So I decided to appoint her guardians."

"But why us?" John asked. "I mean, you have a whole army of goons, don't you?"

"Yes. But unfortunately my 'goons' as you so eloquently put it, aren't smart enough to keep her. I placed two agents at her house, three and a half hours later I get a call from Cardiff. When I placed her into a cell she had escaped by lunch."

Phoenix grinned.

"So you 'chose' us?" Sherlock asked scornfully.

"Well I figured you were smart enough to be able to keep an eye on her."


	2. Chapter 2

But no matter how much Sherlock argued, Mycroft was insistent, to the point of threatening both him and John. After it had been settled, he departed for 'important matters'. Sherlock sulked in a chair. John looked at what was apparently their new guest. She was tall and thin, with blue eyes. He could see where she got the name 'Phoenix'; her hair was a bright scarlet red. She noticed him looking at frowned.

"This wasn't my idea." She said. "I have things to do, places to be." She sighed. "Food to eat."  
>John stood up. "Oh, do you want some food? I can cook you something, or…"<br>She smiled. "Don't trouble yourself too much. Do you have any fruit? An apple would be nice."  
>John nodded distractedly and went to get one for her. Phoenix sat down in the chair opposite Sherlock. She stared at him with her startling blue eyes. He noticed after a few seconds.<br>"What?" he asked annoyed.  
>"So you're the famous 'Sherlock Holmes'?" she asked, stressing the last two words.<br>"Apparently," he replied. "And you're Phoenix." He waited for a response, but she just waited.  
>"What?" he asked.<br>"Well, if you're anything like Mycroft, I'm waiting for the run-down."  
>"The…Run-down?" he asked.<br>She grinned teasingly. "Where do I work? Am I single? Am I married? What's in my job description? What did I have for breakfast?"  
>Sherlock glanced over her, analysing. "You're very athletic; but you obviously work a desk job, so you must have some extracurricular activities outside of work. Probably Martial Arts, ballet or gymnastics, not a team sport. You work in a place where you see a lot of people, but you are also on-call. You work as a secretary, but you hold another job as well- probably in relation to whatever Mycroft wants from you. Single, but many admirers. You are also moderately rich, but live alone, not even any pets. And you haven't had breakfast yet." He added.<br>She grinned. "I work as a secretary. I practice martial arts and when I was younger I dabbled in gymnastics. I am single, and I do have admirers. And yes I am 'moderately rich' and I hate pets. So, let's see. You got the desk job from the state of my fingers, the admirers from my jewelry, my second job was obvious. The pets from the lack of pet hair on my clothes. The on-call bit from the fact that it's five in the morning yet I seem incredibly awake, plus the fact that I look as if I spent the better part of the morning doing my hair and makeup – so that must mean I have some talent in getting ready extremely quickly. My wealth you ascertained from my clothes. The martial arts and ballet, probably from the way I held myself. Breakfast – the apple… So, how did I do?"

Sherlock was stunned. He had not considered intelligence, but now looking back on it, it would account for Mycroft's eagerness to keep her close by. He nodded.  
>She smiled back. "My turn. First let's state the obvious. Consultant detective, blah blah. You're poor, and you <em>really <em>don't like your brother. You rarely see him anyway, only when he needs a favour. You accept cases at any time – your house is open all hours to potential clients. You don't have many friends. You're a retired smoker. You're messy… and you don't care what other people think. You run a lot and also spend a lot of time here, at home. Am I right?"  
>He looked at her startled. She had ascertained the facts as efficiently as either he or Mycroft could have.<br>"My brother?" he asked, the one fact he couldn't deduce.  
>"He's rich. You live…here. If you got favors from him he would have brought it up. The fact that you and John instantly assumed that he wanted something suggests that normally he only comes over to ask favors. Well, tell me. Are you impressed?"<br>He looked at her coldly. "I am rarely impressed." He said. But you did come close, he added silently.  
>She grinned at him. "Ahh, well. Can't amaze everyone. There's always a critic. And so on and so forth."<br>She sighed and stretched. John chose that moment to walk in.  
>"No apples, sorry." He said.<br>"Really?" she asked surprised. "That's never happened before."

"Do you often ask for apples?" Sherlock asked.  
>"Yeah, I do." She said with a frown. "It's very rare that someone doesn't have one. Unless it's a bachelor pad. Hmm." She frowned to herself. "Anyway," she perked up. "Doesn't matter." She stood up and stretched. Sherlock noticed John glance her over. Sherlock looked back at Phoenix. She was rather attractive, he supposed. Phoenix sighed and walked over to her bag. Apparently Mycroft had forced her to pack a suitcase. Or maybe he had packed it himself. But since Phoenix walked over and pulled a book out of the front pocket, it was much more likely that she had packed it. She went and sat back down and began reading. Sherlock looked over the title. 'Skulduggery Pleasant' it read. It had a picture of a skeleton in a suit holding a fireball. He raised an eyebrow. Phoenix didn't notice, seemingly consumed in the book. She laughed at something. John and Sherlock swapped glances.<br>"So then…" John began. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to get some rest." He said in the form of a question. Sherlock gave him a look which said there was nothing he had left to say. John stood there, and finally Phoenix realised he was waiting for her.  
>"I'm fine," she said with a grin, glancing up from her book.<br>"Okay then." John nodded. He paused, looking slight unsure of himself, then he turned and went back to bed. Phoenix went back to her book. Sherlock watched her curiously.

She continued to read and then, without looking up said, "You know, it's considered rude to stare."  
>"'Skulduggery Pleasant'?" he asked in a lofty tone.<br>She looked at him. "Yeah. Skulduggery Pleasant," she said, almost hostilely. "It's about a talking skeleton. It's _very_amusing and entertaining."  
>"Ahh." Sherlock said. He wondered if he had overestimated her intelligence. She paused.<br>"Anything else?" she asked, still rudely.  
>He frowned and shook his head.<br>Phoenix looked back at her book. She had always been slightly obsessive over her books.  
>She was tired of people underestimating the books she read. Mycroft was always particularly rude about it. And the other people she knew were too self-important to read books, unless it was some politics article or classic novel. Not that there was anything bad about the classics, as long as you were reading it for fun, not so you could quote it to someone else to make yourself seem more worldly.<p>

She tried reading again, but could no longer concentrate. She sighed and placed it aside. Sherlock was still looking at her.  
>"Yes?" she snapped.<br>Sherlock frowned at her. He supposed he had said or done something she deemed to be wrong in regards to the book. Then again it could be her annoyance at being 'cooped up' as John would say.  
>"You don't have to stay here." He said haughtily.<br>"I wish." She replied annoyed.  
>"No one's stopping you."<br>"Except Mycroft and his endless threats." She sighed and squirmed, moving so her legs hung over one armrest and her head rested on the other. She sighed.  
>"If he's threatening you, why did you work for him?" Phoenix didn't seem the type to be threatened. She seemed almost entertained by the idea.<br>"Because it amuses me. I get bored easily."  
>Sherlock nodded. He knew the feeling. Phoenix shrugged. "Anyway I wasn't talking about him threatening me. I was talking about you two."<br>Sherlock looked at her. They had only just met, yet she seemed to be saying that she cared about them. He mused over the failings of a woman's heart. It must be complicated having all those annoying emotions getting in the way, he supposed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock and Phoenix sat together, as the day brightened. Neither moved nor made a sound, just sat there reflecting on their own problems. Neither noticed when John woke up once more and put on some coffee. Neither responded when he asked if anyone else wanted some. It wasn't till the door rang that they showed a sign of consciousness. They both sat up straight. Phoenix tossed her hair over her shoulder, and Sherlock straightened his suit. John watched with a sense of incredulity. The similarities between the two were incredible, he thought to himself as he went to answer the door. Mrs Hudson was to be out all weekend, so they had to cope without her. He shook his head, and then answered the door. A very worried wreck of a man stood there, anxiously biting his nail.  
>"I-is this the…are you Sherlock Holmes?"<br>"No, but he does live here," John said. "Can we help you?"  
>"Yes. I- I need your help. I'm being –"<br>"Come in." John said. "We'll help as best we can."  
>He led the man up the stairs. Phoenix and Sherlock were still waiting patiently. John led the man to a seat. Sherlock frowned at the man, while Phoenix shot him a charming smile. The man gave a nervous one back. There was a silence.<br>"Yes?" Sherlock asked, finally.  
>"Oh…I-I…I'm being framed!" he finally exclaimed.<br>"Oh, really?" Sherlock asked, clearly bored.  
>Phoenix shot him a look. "Please do continue," she said sweetly.<br>The man shot her an almost alarmed look. "My…my wife. She framed me!"  
>"Oh, a wife," Sherlock cut in, in a mocking tone. The man looked at him, frightened. John was reminded of a mouse stuck in a maze.<br>"Ignore him." Phoenix said, her tone dripping with annoyance. This time Sherlock frowned at her.  
>"I'm sorry, I don't recall asking for your opinion."<br>"It's the twenty first century," she replied. "I don't need your permission." She once more turned back to the nervous man. "Please continue."  
>"My name is Timothy." He began. "Timothy Moore."<br>"Nice to meet you, Timothy. My name is Rachael."  
>He paused. "My story is a bit unbelievable. The police certainly think so. But it's true. I swear."<br>She nodded. "We'll be the judge of that."  
>"…My story starts a few months ago, when I met the woman of my dreams…"<p>

**Kayla: So the next chapter might take a while, because it's going to take some work, because I need an unbelievable story which has a logical solution. Please review! Thanks for reading.**


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